Children of Flesh and Stone
by Rhadeya
Summary: The line of Durin lays shattered and broken with the kingdom of Erebor. Mahal has the power to restore that which was lost, but great sacrifice is required. Will the three that are chosen be able to make the sacrifice required of them? Thorin/OC, Tauriel/Kili, Fili/Sigrid
1. Weeping

**Author's Note**: This is a follow on from my story 'Love Eternal' so some aspects of this might not make much sense without reading that first :)

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><p>The Dwarves mourned.<p>

The loss of their king, as well as both of his heirs, came as a heavy blow to the Dwarves of Erebor. The remnants of Durin's folk, who had started travelling as soon as word reached them of Smaug's demise, were devastated. They had truly believed that their Prince, the noble Thorin, would become their King and rule wisely, protecting them as he had whilst they had been without their homeland.

The company of Thorin Oakenshield, who had risked their lives to accompany him on his quest, were the most affected of all. To have reclaimed their home from the dragon, only to lose their King to the Pale Orc, was a blow they found very hard to deal with. But to have lost their two youngest fellows, Thorin's nephews and his heirs, was something many of them could not deal with. Spirits broken, they sank into their grief, unable to pull themselves out of the darkness.

_In the dark halls of Erebor, the Dwarves wept_.

The Elves faded.

The loss of so many, who had lived in the Greenwood for thousands of years, took its toll on the survivors. To have their Prince leave as well, and watch their King fall further into solitude, was too much for many to bear. Unable to reconcile their loss, many of the Elves who returned from the Battle before Erebor began to fade, the light of their lives dimming as they lost their will to live any longer.

Tauriel sank into a deep depression, unable to come to terms with losing her beloved Kili. She was forced to remain with the living for her unborn children, whose lives she refused to forsake. They were all she had left of Kili and she vowed to tell them of their father and his bravery. Allowed to return home, but no longer having her former status, she kept herself hidden away in the forest as she awaited the birth of her children.

_Amongst the trees of Mirkwood, Tauriel wept_.

The race of Men struggled.

Those who survived the Battle of the Five Armies retreated to the ruined city of Dale, or what was left of it. Much had been destroyed by the Orcs and Trolls and, with winter upon them, they struggled to survive. The Elven King sent supplies and they began to rebuild the once great city. The people called upon Bard to rule them, but he would not, for he felt no yearnings to be King.

Sigrid, the fifteen year old daughter of Bard, was broken hearted when news came of the casualties. Though only knowing them for a short while, she had grown fond of the blond haired Dwarf, Fili. He had spoken kindly to her, treated her well and complimented her on many small accomplishments. She, in turn, had become infatuated with him, dreaming of the day the Dwarven Prince would come to Dale and claim her as his bride.

_In the ruins of Dale, Sigrid wept_.

The Maker was saddened.

The line of Durin was that which he was privately proud of, for the line was unbroken from Durin himself. He had ensured that the line remained intact, never allowing it to become weakened by relying on those further out of the bloodline. He had nurtured another line, ensuring it too remained pure, until finally Zuri was born. She would be the one to capture the lonely heart of Thorin, son of Thrain, for Mahal had planned for the union to happened. They would produce one an heir who would fight the darkness that lingered in the world. But Thorin had never met Zuri, for she travelled from the Iron Hills and reached Erebor after his passing.

_In the serene beauty of Valinor, Mahal wept_.

And in the void that was outside of creation, Eru looked on. He too had grown fond of the line of Durin, and the events at Erebor were known to him. He knew of the hard won battle to reclaim the Kingdom. He knew of the love between the Elf Maiden Tauriel and the Dwarf Kili. He knew of the feelings that the girl Sigrid had for the Dwarf Fili. He knew of the match Mahal had had planned for the Dwarf Thorin. He saw the possibility of uniting the races as never before, for he knew of the darkness that was coming.

_In the void, Eru shed three tears. He gave them to Mahal, so that his Vala could use them to restore that which was lost, and reawaken the Children of Flesh and Stone._


	2. Mirkwood (MahalAulë)

**Author's Notes**: Thank you to my wonderful reviewers, your reviews are what encourage me to continue writing As mentioned before, you might want to read "Love Eternal" before reading this as it will clarify a few details about Tauriel etc. And apologies for the time it has taken to get this chapter up, life has been hectic lately :-/

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><p><strong>2. Mirkwood (Mahal****Aulë****)**

I look down and smile. There is nothing more precious than that which I cradle in my hands at this moment. Shining brighter than the sun and more beautiful than any gem stone, the three tears of Eru are priceless and ethereal. Contained within each is the essence of life, and the ability to restore life to the dead. All that is needed to carry out my task are the souls of the fallen, and the sacrifice of the innocents who will help to return them to life. The souls are the easy part, for they reside in Valinor with the souls of all fallen Children of Ilúvatar. Whilst created by me, outside of the Song, Eru took the Dwarves as His children too, and so their souls travel to Valinor when they depart Arda. I will collect them once I have visited the innocents chosen for the task of restoration.

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The decline of the once great Greenwood, now known as Mirkwood even to its Elven inhabitants, brings me great sadness. Once, a thousand different shades of green had shone from the majestic forest, rivaling the beauty of the Emeralds the Dwarves coaxed from their mountains. Now, the trees are dark and ashen, covered in huge webs and dying from the darkness that encroaches further each day. The path I am taking is overgrown, the stones laid by the first of the Greenwood Elves cracked and broken. It would be easy for the unwary to lose their way, especially given the heavy magic I can feel flowing sluggishly through the air. Being a Valar, the enchantments have no effect on me, but the very fact that they are there concerns me. Does Thranduil really strive to keep everyone out of his forest?

A smile comes to my lips as I step off the path and head towards the small cottage I can see in the distance. The sickness has not reached here and the trees are vibrant and healthy. They whisper to me of their friend, the lone Elf in the cottage. They tell me of her sadness; that she is beginning to fade, in spite of the life growing inside her. I hope that I have arrived in time to stop her from fading, especially if I can restore the one whom she pines for. As I approach the front of the sturdy building, I hear the slight twang of a bow being drawn and stop, raising my hands in a show of surrender. In truth, no weapon of Arda can harm me, but this spirited young one does not know that yet.

"Who are you, and why are you here?" the delicate feminine voice demands. Though the words are meant to convey menace, all I hear in them is a sad resignation.

"I am here to find Tauriel Fireleaf, daughter of Lethanne," I reply calmly. The seconds stretch out as I wait for her to reply. I can feel her surprise, and her curiosity.

"I am Tauriel," she tells me finally, giving in to her desire to know. "I have not gone by the name Fireleaf since I was a child."

"Nevertheless, it is your proper name," I say to her. "And it should be celebrated, not hidden away."

"I ceased to use it when the memory of it became too painful to bear," she snaps at me.

"Your mother would not have wanted you to give it up," I answer, hiding the smile from my voice.

"The murder of my mother is why I gave it up," she snarls at me, her pain evident in her misplaced anger. She lost everything once before, and now history had repeated itself, snatching away the one person she had allowed herself to love since her parents deaths.

"Then it is about time you put aside your anger and retook it," I tell her, turning to face her. Her gasp is a mixture of surprise and horror, her face pale and her eyes wide as she stares at me. I allow the smile tugging at my lips to flourish. Eru was right to choose her; even if she hadn't loved the dwarf, she knows who, or perhaps _what_, I am with a single look. Her bow slips from nerveless fingers, as the shock of our encounter suddenly overwhelms her. I step forward just as she gives a small, pained whimper and loses consciousness, catching her easily in my arms.

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The interior of the cottage is clean and tidy but spartan, the only furniture in the first room a hand carved rocking chair by the large hearth. An arched doorway at the back of the room leads through to the sleeping area. A large, plainly woven rug lays on the floor before the hearth and it is upon this that I lay the frail Elf in my arms. When the trees whispered to me of her sadness, they failed to mention her physical condition. Though her clothes hide her from prying eyes, I can feel her fragility as I lay her gently on the rug. She is little more than skin and bones, far from the healthy, wiry Elf she was before she fell prey to her grief. I sit beside her, comfortable against the cold stone floor of the cottage, feeling the gentle ebb and flow of energy through the earth below me.

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Little more than an hour has passed when I hear the change in her breathing. I smile as she draws in a deep breath and turns her head to look at me. Unlike many of her kind, there is no fear in her eyes as she looks at me, only curiosity and resignation.

"You are Aulë?" she asks, though there is little questioning in her voice.

"Yes, I am," I confirm, nodding slightly. She raises herself into a sitting position, her legs drawn up against her chest and her arms circling them, as if to protect herself.

"You're not here to take me to the Halls of Mandros," she states, her mouth twisting in disappointment. "So why are you here? Are you going to steal my children, as the Orc stole my love?"

"No, little one," I reassure her. "I am not here to take life."

"Then why are you here?" she demands, her tone lackluster in her apathy.

"To attempt to restore that which was snatched away," I tell her, watching her reaction, which will tell me if she is past saving from fading.

"Unless you can raise the dead, what you speak of is impossible," she sighs, though a spark of hope shines in her eyes.

"And if I can restore the dead to life?" I question, watching with relief as the hope blossoms in her eyes.

"Then I would do anything to have you return him to me," she tells me, her hope overcoming her apathy and grief.

"It is not without its risks," I caution her, all traces of my former joviality gone. "And there will be a price."

"I don't care what the risks are," she tells me adamantly. "And I will pay whatever price has to be paid!"

"Even if it means your own life is taken as payment?" I demand, needing now to know if she is truly willing to pay the price Eru has set for Kili's restoration.

"Yes!" she whispers, a single tear rolling down her pale, sunken cheek as she accepts the sacrifice she will have to pay to have Kili returned to life.

"Very well," I accept, giving her a long and searching look. "Travel at once to your Thranduil and command him travel with you to Erebor. Have him send word to both Elrond and Galadriel, we will need their power to add to our own for this."

"I cannot command my King," she stammers, suddenly uncertain and timid.

"You can, and you will," I tell her sternly. "And if he refuses to accompany you, or fails to believe you, give him this." As I speak, I open my palm, hiding my smile as she catches sight of what is contained within and gasps. Her eyes wide with wonder, she takes the small object from my hand almost reverently and clasps it to her heart, determined to keep it safe until it can be returned to its rightful owner.


End file.
